The Alleviating Aftermath
by CompleteIndie
Summary: Dear Reader; Programmed into this site is a story unlike the rest of the Baudelaire orphans. It is their best story yet, albeit still tragic at times. In this digital story, you will read about tearful reunions, dangerous people, murder, a dishonest trial, and Indian food. I advise you against reading this. With all due respect, Lemony Snicket.
1. Chapter One

There is a possibility you have heard of the infinite universe theory, or the multiverse theory. In case you haven't, the theory states that for every single possible outcome, change or decision possible in this world, a new alternate timeline is created for it. For example, if you wake up one morning, and try to decide if you want cereal or oatmeal, you have just created two new timelines — one where you choose oatmeal, and another with cereal.

Well, more such universes exist — including ones with the Baudelaires. In this universe, the Baudelaires were met at the Hotel Denouement by a certain series of triplets.

It was exactly four minutes past three pm, when the Baudelaires all arrived in the lobby. Things were looking confusing — two Denouement twins in three places, a harpoon gun, birdpaper, and a special lock. They tried to make sense of this before the trial on Thursday.

The Baudelaires were considering all this when they heard three familiar voices. The three of them looked up to see three children, around Klaus or Violet's age, running towards them.

Those three were the Quagmire Triplets, reunited with the Baudelaires at last.

The two sets of friends, once out of reach, hugged and held each other close. Klaus and Isadora were curled on the sofa, Quigley was holding up Sunny, hugging her, and Violet and Duncan didn't even opt to sit down, holding each other tight.

"H-how are you here?" Violet finally asked. The three seperated from the others, and explained how the self sustaining hot air mobile home had been attacked by eagles from the V.F.D., sending the craft downwards. The Quagmires, somewhat ruefully, that they could not save Hector, and they had no clue if Kit Snicket was alive or dead.

The six started catching up on old times, recapping the events of Heimlich Hospital, the Caligari Carnival — the death of Olivia Caliban was disconcerting, a word which here means 'made Isadora and Duncan mourn the fateful librarian' — the events at the Mortmain Mountains, in the Gorgonian Grotto, and now here, at Hotel Denouement.

The sextet — a word here meaning "the six children" — laughed and cried and comforted each other into the wee hours of the morning.

They all went to bed, together, in the Hotel Denouement, in room 832, able to sleep, relax, and await the trial.

* * *

The next morning, Sunny was the first to wake. It was about forty five minutes later, but then Violet, Isadora, Klaus, Duncan, and Quigley all woke up, in that order, to Sunny giving them breakfast.

"Brekast." Sunny said, which meant something like 'breakfast is served'. The Baudelaires and Quagmires enjoyed, somewhat at ease. It had been a while since they had a true, healthy meal.

The Quagmires were briefed by the Baudelaires on the assignment at Hotel Denouement, so as the bell rang, they started to wander the Hotel Denouement, undercover, wanting only to live and learn something for the trial, convict Olaf, and live happy until the end will ring. I am glad to say that they will be happy, just not without one more unfortunate event.

Now, as the Baudelaires did, the Quagmore triplets will engage in assignments with them, as three different rooms ring.

Klaus and Isadora, Violet and Duncan, and Sunny and Quigley all went in pairs, and it is now that you learn you do not need to read the next three chapters in order.

Perhaps you will read about Klaus and Isadora's visit to room 098 in chapter two, involving a horrible theft from the vice president in charge of orphan affairs and a book of important evidence.

Perhaps you will read about Violet and Duncan going to room 529 in chapter three, and repairing the pivotal clock of the Hotel Denouement, a clock that was the stuff of legend, a phrase you already know means 'very famous for being very loud'.

Or perhaps you will go to room 954 with Quigley and Sunny in chapter four, where Count Olaf is in disguise of Jacques Snicket, and a violent murder is attempted with a pot of curry.

Or perhaps to will skip all of these to go to chapter five, where the six talk about their findings. Or perhaps to chapter six, where the trial takes place. Or perhaps chapter seven, where the titular aftermath occurs. Or perhaps you will close Archive of Our Own in its entirety and shutdown your mechanical device, finding a book with real paper to read instead, or perhaps doing your math homework that you decided to skip in favor of this story.

I highly advise the last one, but I won't force you. But it has been advised.


	2. Chapter Two

Perhaps you have heard of the phrase 'carpe diem'. Carpe diem is a Latin phrase that best translates to 'seize the day'. Of course, you cannot seize a day, in any meaning of the word. You cannot forcibly grab hold of a day, unlike an arm or a coconut. You cannot make a day stuck, like perhaps a sawblade or a rifle. You cannot be in legal possession of a day, except maybe if you happen to be a Norse god like Thor, Frey, or Tyr, although this would be up for debate. And you cannot fasten a day to a rope, unlike a woman I loved very much when we scaled buildings together.

The phrase 'seize the day' is a very odd phrase because of this, but the phrase means that you should use your day to it best advantage, whether that'd be living life in enjoyment, learning important info, or escaping the law to fight another day.

Regardless, the phrase 'carpe diem' came to Klaus Baudelaire's mind as he and Isadora Quagmire went to the basement of the Hotel Denouement, going to room 098, at the call of a certain banker.

Outside the door to room 098, was none other than Mr. Arthur Poe, vice president in charge of orphan affairs at Mulctuary Money Management. This man had singlehandedly caused a considerable amount of trouble for both the Baudelaires and the Quagmires, and I can only wonder how in the world the CEO of that bank – the CEO being the only person higher ranking that Mr. Poe himself – came into that form of power. It does however leave it rather clear why the bank went out of business six years after the events of this story, so perhaps it checks out.

"Concierges!" The banker exclaimed, both Klaus and Isadora not bothering to try and keep the disguise up. "Please, I need your help!"

"What seems to be the matter, Mr. Poe?" Isadora said, knowing that Mr. Poe would never find anything suspicious, even if she told the banker who she was outright.

"My index to a complete chronicle of all of Count Olaf's crimes, which I could have sworn I left locked tightly in my room, has been stolen!" Poe cried out, while the two orphans looked at each other. Who would steal evidence of Olaf's crimes, except Olaf himself?

"We'll find it right away. When did you see it last?" Klaus asked, no trace of disguising his voice.

"I had it right here! I was trying so hard to get it photocopied a dozen times or so, so my associates had copies of the index, but the manager kept insisting that it was too many pages. It's only just shy of one thousand pages." The banker exclaimed, as though not being willing to photocopy eleven thousand pages worth of paper was unreasonable. "Regardless, I turned around to show the manager how important this book was, but when I went for it, it was gone. Then I turned back to the manager, and he was gone."

"Excuse us, sir, if you don't mind leaving the room, me and my fellow concierge will look for the index in question." Klaus said, using an absurdly fake accent, just because it was amusing to see how much would go over the banker's head.

"Of course." Poe said, leaving. "By the way, but by any chance do you have a cold? Your voice sounds odd."

"Yes, just a cold." Klaus said in a different but equally fake accent.

"Got it. Well, surely a room in this hotel has medicine. Thank you, concierges!" Poe said, leaving the room.

The two orphans stepped into room 098 of the Hotel Denouement, a dark dingy room filled with stacks and stacks of paper, as Isadora looking at Klaus ridiculously. "Klaus, you could have gotten us caught!" she cried out.

"I doubt it, he never suspected a thing when Olaf was in disguise. I have to seize the day," Klaus said, thinking about how many times 'Stephano' had slipped up. "Carpe diem." He remembered, saying the name of the phrase he had learned years ago.

Isadora smiled at that fact, before reciting a poem she had made that fateful night at Prufrock Prep. "Though it may not be particularly wise, it's quite a thrill to be in disguise."

Klaus smiled softly. "I like it. It's good, Isadora."

"T-thanks. So, where could the book be?" she asked, turning around so Klaus didn't see how red her face was getting. Why do I get like this around him ? She wondered, but she knew the answer perfectly fine.

"Not sure... do you think Mr. Poe was talking to Ernest? It would explain why the book went missing alongside the manager." Klaus pondered, pulling out his commonplace book.

Isadora started looking around, underneath stacks of paper, under the desks, and even under the carpet, which was oddly bumpy. This whole task proved fruitless, a word here meaning 'the floor in room 098 was the oddest floor she had ever seen, as there was no book under it, or anywhere else in the room'.

Klaus meanwhile had checked above shelfs, above the lights, and even above the doorframe. This also proved fruitless, although this meaning would have been different.

There was a moment of pause, as Isadora pulled out her own commonplace book, the two of them sharing notes, trying to figure who would have been willing to steal the index.

"Hey, Isadora?" Klaus asked suddenly. "It's, uh, not exactly important... But, maybe by any chance when this is all said and done you can teach me how to write couplets?"

Isadora blushed brightly, but in the dark she doubted Klaus would see it. "H-how come?"

"I just want to try some writing out. Since you and Duncan and the only writers among us, I figured I could ask you." Klaus said.

"S-sure." She replied, excited. Suddenly, something dawned on her. "Klaus? Is there a Dewey Decimal Number for indexes?"

"20, why?" Klaus replied, confused.

"What if the index got put in there?" It seems right. After all, it would be easy for an index with no real title to get lost in a mix of more indexes.

The two quickly left, bumping into Mr. Poe. "S-sir, we think we know where your index is."

"That's miraculous!" Mr. Poe cheered, before adding as an afterthought, "Miraculous means something like a miracle."

We both know what miraculous means. Klaus thought, but bothered not even saying. The duo-turned-trio went to room 020, just down the hall, before quickly searching through more stacks of paper.

"Haha! I found it, concierge!" Mr. Poe cried out, holding the index with a sense of pride and accomplishment. The book was thick, most certainly more than one thousand pages, with a black leather binding and Mulctuary Money Management embossed on the front cover.

As Mr. Poe left, a figure came into the room, holding a similar, almost identical version of the book Mr. Poe had just left with. The only difference being the logo on the front was that of Hotel Denouement. The person holding the book was none other than Frank, unless it was Ernest.

"Hello, concierges, do you think you might want a copy of that index, seeing as the original requester left?"

Klaus smiled. That could help prepare them for the trial, right? "Yes, that would likely come in handy."

Wrong!

Wrong!

Wrong!

I am sorry to inform you that as the clock of the Hotel Denouement was powered back on, it told Klaus Baudelaire exactly what it thought of his question.

Wrong!

In a world often governed by corruption and arrogance, it can be difficult for even the most read of people to stand a fair shot in this world.

Wrong!

While Klaus didn't know it, the trial was not in his, or her sisters, or even the Quagmires favor. The trial was rigged from before the start even began.

Wrong!

If I could, I would go back to that Wednesday morning, and tell Baudelaires and Quagmires alike to run.

Wrong!

Sadly, I cannot go back and warn them, any more than I can go back and let Esme Squalor keep her beloved sugar bowl. I wish I had seized the day and found some other vessel for distressed objects to store the contents of the sugar bowl in.

Wrong!

I wish I had seized the day and gone with my sister Kit to fight the eagles attacking the self-sustaining hot air mobile home. All these years later, I can only hope that my sister is alive and well.

Wrong!

Klaus Baudelaire believed he was seizing the day getting the only copy of the Incomplete History of Injustice index, but he was wrong, as the clock so delightfully told him.

Wrong!

Hopefully, they could learn that chaos awaited them before the trial began, live the vast sea of ignorance, and live happily ever after, couples in arms and cheerful.

Wrong!

But that's not how the story goes.


	3. Chapter Three

There is a supposed law, that I most certainly following on a regular basis in my day to day life, called Murphy's Law. It is the law stating that anything, anything at all, that could possibly go wrong will go wrong. It was named after Captain Edward A. Murphy, an engineer working on an Air Force project designed to see how much sudden deceleration a person can stand in a crash. One day, after finding all the transducer were wired wrong, Edward Murphy cursed the technician responsible for the mishap, saying, 'If there is any way to do it wrong, he'll find it.' The project manager kept a list of 'laws', and added Murphy's Law, immortalizing in human history.

Well, the Baudelaires, had they knew about Murphy's Law, would have most certainly agreed that it applied to them in every way, shape, and form. Form the fire that killed their parents, to the murder of Montgomery Montgomery and Josephine Anwhistle, the accidents at Lucky Smells Lumbermill, the terrible teaching at Prufrock Prep, the cruelty of Esme Squalor at 667 Dark Avenue, the absurdly strict rulings and attempted burning in the Village of Fowl Devotees, the near murder at Heimlich Hospital, death of Olivia Caliban, the separation of the Mortmain Mountains, and the poisonous Medusoid Mycelium in the Gorgonian Grotto, anything that could go wrong in the Baudelaires lives seemed to go wrong.

Well, as Violet Baudelaire and Duncan Quagmire went up to room 529 in the Hotel Denouement, they ran into one of the managers.

"Ah, hello concierges! We seem to have experienced an issue with the clock in the lobby." Said Ernest, or maybe it was Frank.

"Then why did we come all the way up to the fifth floor?" asked Duncan, disguising his voice in case it wasn't Frank, but perhaps it wasn't Ernest.

"Because this is where the clock is controlled from. You know what 529 is in the Dewey Decimal System, correct?" There a slight pause in either-Frank-or-Ernest's voice, before continuing. "Chronology, the study of time and history. It only makes sense to have the clock here."

Of course, it made very little sense to have a clock in the first floor lobby controlled and powered from the fifth floor, but of course, Violet and Duncan knew better than to argue.

"Do either of you have mechanical prowess?" asked either-Ernest-or-Frank, looking carefully at the two 'concierges'.

"I have a bit, sir." Violet piped up, although we both knew this was an understatement, a word that here means 'Violet Baudelaire was a remarkable inventor, and certainly had more than a 'bit' of mechanical prowess.'

"Lovely! Try and get this working so it goes off at eleven AM sharp." Said the Denouement, before pausing. "Goodbye, Duncan, Violet." said the twin, before leaving the room.

The two were frozen in place, but quickly the two started getting to work, Violet repairing the clock, Duncan assisting and writing down their discussion in his own commonplace book, which had been generously replaced by Kit Snicket during their brief encounter.

"Do you think that was Frank? Also, pipe wrench." Violet asked, before Duncan handed her a pipe wrench to work on the clock.

"He seemed to know our names, and Frank knows we're here." Duncan replied, jotting that down. "But that 'goodbye' seemed like a threat, so was it Ernest?"

"If it was Ernest, why didn't he attack us? Also, flat screwdriver." Violet said.

"Maybe he was told not to attack us. Of course, Frank wouldn't attack us either..."

"I'm already getting confused, and that's before this clock started going again. Also, I see the problem. This paper got stuck in the gears." Violet said, pulling the papers out.

The two looked at the sheets in from of them. They were marked with unmade inventions, and all of them were signed simply Denouement. Concepts for an underwater library, the clock behind them, a secret basement. All of them seemed interesting, and were written on Hotel Denouement marked papers.

"Should we keep this? Frank won't mind." Violet said.

"Ernest will mind." Duncan replied,

"Mind what?" said a voice, and both of them jumped.

"Frank? Or Ernest?" Violet asked the manager, startled.

"Precisely. So, how's the clock coming along?" asked Frank or Ernest.

"I think I've got it. It was jammed with papers." Said Violet. "Can we keep these papers?"

"If the clock works, sure." Said Ernest or Frank. "Also, I'd turn it on right now, it's almost eleven.

Violet quickly hit the button to make the gears of the clock spin, and it started ticking once more.

"So, can we keep these?" asked Duncan. At the manager nod, he smiled. "Thanks. They might come in handy."

Wrong!

Wrong!

Wrong!

I am sorry to say that the clock in the Hotel Denouement rewarded Violet and Duncan with its pessimist outlook on if the papers would be helpful or not.

Wrong!

Wrong!

Wrong!

Some simple disturbance might send our buildings toppling. Some minor ripple might cause disorder. I know that, but I truly have to say that it's my sworn duty to report these tragic events. That's why I am here to tell you that this was not what Violet had in mind when she agreed to see how she fix the clock in the lobby of the Hotel Denouement. And Duncan Quagmire wasn't ready for the peaceful story, or part thereof, to go away. Sadly, all peace eventually goes away, and as the clock starting ringing.

Wrong!

Despite all that, Violet and Duncan had hope. Hope that things would not painfully. Hope that this series of unfortunate events would come to an end.

Wrong!

A good old friend of mine named Charlie Green wrote and composed an original song called 'World of Grey', that told a story in which a victim of terrible science experiments tried to leave the testing facility. It was a dark ambient song explaining how the testing would bring them to insanity.

Wrong!

This song would explain one of the people in the Hotel Denouement, as the trial that was about to begin. A grating experiment that would drive them to insanity.

Wrong!

I wish I could say that the Baudelaires and Quagmires would be safe from this total insanity.

Wrong!

But that's not how the story goes.


	4. Chapter Four

There are many things in this world that are almost certainly going to happen. The fires of the world are almost certainly going to happen, as there is no doubt going to be fire, accidental or on purpose. And the Sun rising each morning is almost certainly going to happen, unless you happen to live in the Arctic.

Similarly, Quigley Quagmire and Sunny Baudelaire having many questions was almost certainly going to happen, questions about the Hotel Denouement, about the trial and it's outcome, and many other things.

As the two were walking, they couldn't help but agree that their siblings were utterly in love, and they had a good chuckle over that. However, they stepped into Room 954, to find an unfortunate sight.

Count Olaf, in his curry stained tuxedo, was conversing with Larry Your-Waiter.

"I said for the last time, what are the phrases to the V.F.D. lock?" The count asked Larry, who, upon closer inspection, was tied up in rope.

"I thought you didn't expect me to talk?" Larry replied defiantly, before noticing Quigley and Sunny. "But fine. The first phrase is the contents of the sugar bowl."

"Immunizing sugar, okay." Olaf wrote down into the palm of his hand. "Next!"

"The second phrase is," Larry started, before pausing. What was something that could help the Baudelaires and Quagmires? He thought, before finishing, "the reason you hated Beatrice so much. The night she killed your father by accident."

Sunny froze. She didn't remember much, but... Her mother what? Sunny's mind started reeling, a phrase which here means 'everything started to make sense to Sunny, the defiant hatred Olaf held for her and her siblings coming into clear light'.

"Poison dart... Next, Larry." Olaf said.

"The last one is name of the hotel's true and most important manager." Larry responded, a frozen silence almost suspended midair.

"Frank?" Olaf guessed, to which Larry shook his head no.

"Ernest?" Olaf guessed, to which Larry shook his head no.

"Well, it can't be De... He's not a myth, is he?" Olaf asked slowly, pushing Larry back step by step.

"Dewey Denouement, the true founder of this hotel. He's the one who installed the Vernacularly Fastened Door in the laundry room."

Olaf screamed, throwing Larry to the ground, before pulling one end of the rope, pulling Larry into the kitchen, horror movie style.

The voices kept coming from past the door.

"You can't honestly tell me Dewey Denouement isn't a myth. He's a legend, a story!" Olaf said.

"He just as real as you or me."

"Tell me what the real three phrases to the V.F.D. lock are!"

"Fine, fine!" Larry said, before carefully, loudly, and slowly, saying, "Peppermints, poison dart, and 'who knows when some slight shock, disturbing the delicate balance between social order and thirsty aspiration, shall send the skyscrapers in our cities toppling.'"

"Repeat that, so I can write it down, Larry!" Olaf said, and Larry did as such, Quigley writing the same thing.

"Dewey is real." Larry insisted. "Just ask Kit. She's about to have his child."

Silence rang out. There was a sound of shuffling.

"Olaf? What are you doing?" asked the waiter, Quigley and Sunny listened carefully.

I am glad to inform you that last time Olaf tried the boil-alive-in-curry gambit, the stove had been off for quite some time, meaning Larry Your-Waiter survived.

This time, Olaf turned the stove on himself.

"Goodbye, Larry, my waiter."

Olaf laughed as Larry was splashed into the already boiling curry, and Olaf walked off, brushing his hands as though he just finished a good dusting.

Quigley and Sunny both looked at each other, the message between them very clear.

"What did your mother do?" Quigley asked, confused.

"Innocent. She didn't mean to..." Sunny said, hoping she was right.

"W-we need to tell the others. About Dewey, and Olaf and Larry and..."

"No poison dart." Sunny said, almost begging Quigley to keep it secret, as though to forget.

"I won't tell them about the poison darts, or anything about that. Promise." Quigley said, hugging the now-crying child close. Children, as I very much hope you know, are not supposed to hear twisted, dark, depressing details about the murders that their parents committed at operas. If you didn't know that, I am very sorry you had a rotten childhood, or I am sorry for your children, who is having a rotten childhood, depending if you are a parent or not and if you were told these details or are telling them.

"D-do you think any of those phrases are right?" Quigley asked, shaking.

"Not really." replied Sunny, voice wavering.

Wrong!

Wrong!

Wrong!

I am sorry to inform you that many things happened then and there. Larry Your-Waiter did not survive the boiling curry, although he did receive a proper burial and whatnot afterwards. Larry did however give Olaf the correct phrases to the V.F.D. lock, in a desperate hope of being able to warn Dewey to change the lock after.

Wrong!

His research was invaluable to the Volunteer Fire Department, and was important in the trial that would happen the next day. It, in fact, was the sole reason the trial ended on any form of desirable terms, a phrase here meaning 'not on fire'.

Wrong!

It is a sad fact that death is a thing almost certain to happen, unless you happen to be a tree in a far off secluded part of the world.

Wrong!

For some people, death would only come for them many years afterwards. A haunting inevitable, for those in the older ages, such as the elders in the village of Fowl Devotees.

Wrong!

Some die younger, such as Jacques, Olivia, and Larry, fighting for a noble cause, or something a wicked one.

Wrong!

Some die in the crossfire of a fight, as both my beloved Beatrice and my enemy Olaf know all too well.

Wrong!

Some die younger still, children, harmed and cursed by the treachery of the world.

Wrong!

I wish I could tell you that no more lives would be claimed that week in the Hotel Denouement.

Wrong!

But that's not how the story goes.

* * *

 **A/N: Apologies for not writing Quigley and Sunny that well, but I don't do well with them. Quigley had very little spotlight in the books and Sunny is just... I don't quite get how to write her. I haven't quite figured her out yet. Trust me, I'll get better.)**


	5. Chapter Five

"One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old situation."

This was a quote by P.G. Wodehouse. I am not positive what it means, but if I had to guess, it meant one of two things.

The first such thing is that everything in life will have happened before, such as you stubbing your toe. Unless you are several thousand years old, there is very little chance you are the first person to have stubbed your toe. (If you are in fact immortal, please contact me in regards to your secret.)

The second thing is similar, but opposite. It could also mean things are very rare and sparse, and yet in time of need, will guide you, akin to the belief in destiny. That no matter what the situation is, there will be the groundwork to have let it happen before. A cosmic game of 'what-if'.

Well, the first meaning of that phrase applys to the two sets of orphans, Baudelaires and Quagmires alike.

This was not the first time that the Baudelaires or the Quagmires were working together to put together a grand puzzle laid before them.

"Who's Dewey?" Violet asked, puzzled, a word here meaning 'as though she were trying to solve a puzzle of a black void, which will be quite hard to the identical look of all pieces'.

"Well, the hotel is organized by the Dewey Decimal System, so likely the guy that built this place." Klaus pointed out.

"Is there a Dewey Decimal number for mysteries?" Duncan asked, but Klaus frowned.

"I thought of that, it would be room 135. But there is no room 135."

There was a silence, but Isadora's eye suddenly lit up, in sync with her siblings.

"If we go to the elevator…" Quigley started.

"And try and press the buttons for 1, 3, and 5…" Duncan interjected.

"It might lead us somewhere." Isadora finished.

Violet and Klaus looked at their friends, then each other, then to the elevator. There was a small pause in Klaus's voice, before he spoke up.

" A mystery hidden underground… Hotel Denouement's true founder is found… ?" He recited, as though trying to give his first couplet a whirl. The words were drawn out and the pattern felt off, but it was a start, and it was mostly certain good for a first time.

Isadora blushed anlittle, hugging Klaus, before praising. The six walked to the elevator, Isadora and Klaus just a step or two behind, the poet giving feedback. Klaus stepped into the elevator blushing, but whether from embarassment or pride was still untold.

The three boys each pressed a button, the elevator lowering. Past the basement. Into a sub-basement. Into a sub-sub-basement.

Ding!

The six stepped out, into a cozy little room. There was two cents from the ceiling, and they opened onto a desk. The walls were cabinets, perfect for index cards. On the desk was a book with a fresh new binding and a hot cup of tea.

"This is fresh." Quigley noted absentmindedly, a word here meaning 'still amazed by the design of this comfy yet compact room'.

"Kit? Is that you?" A voice called out, a voice identical to that of Frank and Ernest.

Out came the manager, and the six children looked at him.

"Kit told me you all were clever."

"You're Dewey Denouement. You built the hotel." said Klaus, looking around the small room.

"Exactly. Come along with me." said Dewey, opening a door, leading into a vast underground path system.

Dewey closed the door as the six children stepped in, before briskly walking to the front.

"Everyone in the V.F.D. records their adventures, which goes to various safe places, before coming here. The last safe place." Said Dewey, making sharp turns in the winding paths — Isadora couldn't hide a gasp when she saw her family name, Quagmire , written on a sign, pointing elsewhere.

"I've collected documents from every single V.F.D. agent, banker, childcare worker, detective, emissary, food critic, gardener, home insurance agent, ice cream vendor, jungle explorer, karate black belt, linguist, movie director," the sub-librarian said, before pausing for a short breath, "night guard, operator, personal therapist, quilt knitter, reporter, spy, terrorist, underwater explorer, violinist, watch guard, x-ray specialist, young adult librarian, zookeeper, actor, herpetologist, lion tamer, mill worker, principal, financial advisor, doctor, fortune teller, librarian, sea captain, mycologist, hotel manager, inventor, researcher, chef, poet, writer and cartographer." Dewey said, his breath spent in a way that implies he was practicing that whole spiel.

"Can you repeat that?" Quigley joked, but Dewey smirked. "I'm joking."

Dewey opened a hatch, leading the six out, before following himself and letting the door close.

"Where's the library?" Klaus asked, confused. Here they stood, at the edge of the pond.

"You need to look below the surface." Dewey said cryptically, but the kids understood.

It's under the water…

"My life's work. My secret library." Dewey said, seemingly both proud and ashamed.

"Why are you telling us?" Isadora asked, confused. This was his life's work, and he just revealed it to six perfectly random strangers?

"After Thursday, me and Kit are leaving V.F.D. to raise our child. The secret library will need a new sub-librarian. Or six." Dewey said, leaving the sentence with an ambient tone, a phrase here meaning 'a clear implication of who he had in mind'.

"Violet Baudelaire. I've heard of the wonderful things you have built under pressure. Imagine what you could do with all the time and resources you would have."

"Klaus Baudelaire. I've heard that your researching skills are on par with that of the greatest V.F.D. has ever had. Put them to use. With the greatest library it has."

"Sunny Baudelaire. I've heard what a lovely chef you are. Never underestimate what a good meal can do for the world. Besides, someone will need to make food."

"Isadora Quagmire. I've heard your poems are some of the greatest of your generation, and greater than most of my generation. Learn, improve, here, in safety."

"Duncan Quagmire. I've heard of your researching ability, how you would make your mother proud. You could put the Daily Punctilo to shame, as well as other reports. Imagine what you could with all the reports and articles in the world."

"Quigley Quagmire. The first V.F.D. agent to specialize in cartography — a common trait, but never a major. You will achieve great things with the atlases and places you can use and visit."

"I want you six to take up my torch. In honor of Jacques, Lemony, Olivia, Beatrice and Bertand Baudelaire, James and Moxie Quagmire. Take this library, and guide it."

There was silence. Everyone was touched by the sub-librarian's words.

Isadora was the first to speak up. "We'll do it…"

Dewey smiled softly at them. "Thank you. For volunteering."

Sadly, all good things must end. And this is when this did.

Count Olaf emerged from the bushes. "How tearful. But huzzah! I searched the hotel for you orphans, which wasn't easy because it's very poorly organized, but you're in my clutches at last."

"It's not poorly organized. It's arranged like a library catalog." Klaus said.  
"We're not in your clutches. We're standing at the edge of a pond." Quigley added on.

Olaf smirked. "That's what you think. I'm afraid the man next to you is one of my associates. Hand them over, Ernest."

Dewey smirked back. "Oh, I'm not Ernest."

Olaf frowned. "Well, then, hand them over, Frank. You might want to consider doing your hair different - so I can tell you apa-"

Dewey outright smiled. "I'm not Frank either."

Olaf frowned more. "Wait, what? You really are Dewey Denouement…"

Dewey let himself grin wide. "You're outnumbered, Olaf. This hotel is full of volunteers who arrived early, as noble people do, while your accomplices, being wicked, will arrive late."

"Of course we will." cried a familiar voice. Esme was here, how fun. "Being early is out. That's why they call it fashionably late ."

You likely have seen Part One of the Penultimate Peril on Netflix, but if not, it runs per par to the book. Esme and Carmelita arrive, Olaf and Carmelita argue about spitting and harpoon guns, Esme and Olaf break up, and we now bounce to after Olaf laughs, asking for the phrases to the V.F.D., doubting the words of Larry Your-Waiter.

"Even if you open it, you'll find nothing in the laundry room except laundry. The lock is a decoy." Dewey said, using truth to trick Olaf.  
The count merely snorted. "I may have a handsome and youthful glow, but I wasn't born yesterday. I'll give you until the count of ten. One… Two…"

"If you want to shoot him, you'll have to shoot me!" Said Violet, standing in front of Dewey.

"I can live with that. Three!" Continued the count.

"You'll have to shoot me too." Both Klaus and Isadora said in sync, trying not to make it awkward.

"You're sweetening the pot lovebirds. Four!"

Dewey seemed shocked. "Baudelaires…"

Violet smiled. "If he shoots us, he'll never get the Baudelaire fortune."

Olaf laughes. "There's still the baby. Five!"

Duncan lifted Sunny at her demand, both standing front of Isadora. "You have a choice."

"You can choose not to pull that trigger." Quihley added.

"Yes, and you can choose death by harpoon. Six!" Olaf cried out in defiance.

"Seven!" He said slowly, as the six started walking towards him.

"Eight…" They were now right next to him. "Uh..nine..."

"You don't have to do this. Do something good for once." No one remembers who said it, but everyone wanted to.

"It's all I know how to…" Olaf whispered, his voice shaky, he let go off the harpoon gun and looked at Violet, Klaus, Sunny, Isadora, Duncan, and Quigley. "I'm sorry orphans.."

"What is going on here?!" Suddenly a voice from behind them called, and the orphans, startled, let go off the harpoon gun which crashed on the ground and went off.

You likely believe the arrow will now kill Dewey Denouement.

But that is not how the story goes.

The arrow just barely missing Dewey who had just moved an inch to see the source of the voice he had been ever so familiar with.

"Frank!"

"Ernest?" Cried the other manager, unsure of which triplet was taking.

"Dewey." He called back, and Frank made a quick move over.

"Put Count Olaf where he belongs, throw him into a broom closet until tomorrow's trial."

Frank smiled. "Gladly."

As Olaf was dragged away by Frank Denouement, Dewey looked at the six orphans.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow, your troubles come to an end. Sleep well, children, and think about my offer."

"One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old situation."

This was a quote by P.G. Wodehouse. It could mean things are very rare and sparse, and yet in time of need, will guide you, akin to the belief in destiny. That no matter what the situation is, there will be the groundwork to have let it happen before. A cosmic game of 'what-if'.

This cosmic game of what ifs end, when the six children go to sleep in their room once more, the world seems quiet. They might not have a peaceful trial tomorrow. But at least the world is quiet for now.

* * *

 **AN: Next is the trial. Here's to hoping. Also yes, this chapter is very similar to the show at times. Wanted to keep it somewhat canon. Also, yes, I'm implying that Mrs. Quagmire is Moxie Mallahan.**


	6. Chapter Six

The word trial is an interesting one. It has many different contexts and meanings, as well as many different synonyms and antonyms. A trial could be a difficult thing that no one wants to deal with, such as bankruptcy or taxes. A trial could be a test, like getting your driver's license or passing the upcoming exams that you should be studying for. A trial sounds similar to a trail, which is a dirt pat in the middle of trees that you might use to evade the law.

Well, the last definition of trial could be a legal court procedure, involving convicting a person of innocence or not, and possibly arresting them for committing crimes.

It was 11:00AM, in the lobby of Hotel Denouement, when the podium was set up. Justice Strauss called the meeting to order, as everyone in the Hotel wandered into the room blindfolded.

"You may remove your blindfolds." Justice Strauss announced, to many's confusion, a word here meaning 'Perplexed as to why they had to walk all the way here with them only to take them off'.

"But we just put them on." Duncan pointed out.

"Don't be silly, Mr. Quagmire. Justice may be blind, but the High Court ruled the evidence must be seen to be believed. You will put the blindfolds back on for the verdict." Justice Strauss explained, but Duncan seemed even more confused.

"That doesn't make any sense…"

"All rise for the High Court judges, myself and my esteemed colleagues." Announced the judge, everyone standing up. Quigley turned around only to see the other two judges were all the way up on the sixth floor, over watching everything.

"Why are they so high up?" Quigley asked, suspicious, his hand slowly reaching for his own spyglass. Kit had given him and each of his siblings one before they left, alongside commonplace books.

"The High Court ruled to interpret their name literally." Justice Strauss said, but Quigley was still suspicious. "You may sit. Bring in Count Olaf!"

"Please hold the applause!" The count said, being let out the broom closet, throwing a makeshift noose onto the ground. The entire crowd started with scattered clapping, some not sure if they should clap or not.

"No, don't clap for him! This is a courtroom, not a theater!"

"I thought this was a hotel."

"I thought it was a hotel acting in the role of a courtroom."

"I thought this was a courtroom inside a hotel."

"I thought I saw my mother!"

"Thanks to the efforts of many concerned parties and a banker, I have compiled a comprehensive file on the Baudelaire case. I submit to the Court The Complete History of Injustice or Odious Lusting After Fortunes." Said Justice Strauss, holding the huge leather bound book for all to see.

"I titled it myself." Mr. Poe announced, proudly.

"The judges will now hear this case, while the authorities wait outside to apprehend any guilty party who tries to escape." Said Justice Strauss, before adding, "I call our first witnesses. That's you, Baudelaires."

The three children looked at each other. I hope you have not been a witness, plaintiff, or defendant to many court hearings in your life, but if you have, you know the first time is quite unsettling, as everything feels almost… wrong, like the sound of the grand clock of Hotel Denouement.

The three children walked up to the stands, and each took a seat.

"Please state your names and occupation. We know them, of course. It's just standard procedure."

"Violet Baudelaire, inventor."

"Klaus Baudelaire, researcher.

"I object!" cried the count. "Their proper occupation is orphan, or inheritor of a large fortune."

"Your objection is noted," Justice Strauss sighed, "though I caution the defendant about speaking out of turn. Baudelaires, you have traveled a great distance and suffered a great deal, but you're finally safe, among friends and associates, classmates and co-workers, faculty members and countless neighbors, reporters, theatergoers, fashionistas, doctors, nurses, carnival guests, mountain climbers, telegraph operators, and deep-sea divers. They have been watching you all along the way and are prepared to speak out on your behalf, but the most important testimony is yours. Go on, Baudelaires. Tell us your story. This time, we promise to listen."

Violet paused, before looking at Klaus, who looked at Sunny, who was looking at Violet.

"It all started on Briny Beach, when Mr. Poe informed us of the terrible fire that killed our parents." Violet started.

"We were put into the so-called care of Count Olaf, where he tried to marry Violet." Klaus said.

The two were speaking rapid fire by now.

"He struck Klaus across the face."

"He put Sunny in a cage."

"He murdered Montgomery Montgomery."

"And Josephine Anwhistle."

"He hypnotized Klaus, and tried to kill Charles from Lucky Smells Lumbermill."

"He kidnapped the Quagmires!"

"He conspired with Esme Squalor!"

"He murdered Jacques Snicket, a brave and noble man..."

"He framed us, and tried to burn us at the stake."

"He posed as a doctor! And tried to cut off Violet's head!"

"He murdered Olivia Caliban… a brave and noble volunteer who only joined to stop Count Olaf in the first place!"

"He kidnapped Sunny!"

"He murdered Larry Your-Waiter, and posed as Jacques Snicket!"

There was a breath of silence, as the Baudelaires caught their breath.

"We lost everything." Klaus said slowly.

"Except each other." Violet added.

"We survived because we believed that one day we'd find a safe place. Where people would listen to us." Klaus said, fed up with the injustice of the world.

"And believe us. We've suffered so much, but the root of our suffering is one man." Violet said slowly.

"That man is Count Olaf." Klaus said, with a violence in his voice.

"This world won't be quiet or safe until he's behind bars." Violet said in a similar tone.

"And all decent people have their day in court." Klaus ended, glaring at the living maker of misery.

"Thank you." The two said in sync.

"Thank you, Baudelaires. We are grateful for your courage. You may step down now. I had planned to call other witnesses, but your testimony was so compelling, I hate to waste another second. I'm going to consult with my fellow judges, and if they agree, we can declare these unfortunate events over at last." Justice Strauss, calmly.

There was a small sigh of relief. Olaf merely smirked, while almost everyone watched the Baudelaires intently — parring one person in the lobby.

Quigley suddenly gasped. He was swivelled in his seat, facing the other two judges. He had his spyglass out, and as soon as he gasped, the two judges started moving.

"The other two judges, the High Court… They work with Count Olaf!" Quigley exclaimed, and suddenly Olaf's calm demeanour made sense.

"W-what?" Justice Strauss asked, perplexed, a word here meaning 'in doubt of her fellow judges'. "I've known them for years… every time I've brought up the Baudelaire case they seem interested…"

"Because they're on MY side of the schism, you fool!" Olaf laughed in triumph, moving for the entrance and engaging in combat with Frank, unless of course it was Dewey. Meanwhile, Duncan and Isadora bolted to beside the elevator for some unknown reason, a phrase here meaning 'the two triplets knew each other well enough to know what the other was thinking'.

Out of the elevator, stepped the two judges with their aura of menace. They took two steps before the triplets hit them upside the head with their spy glasses. The two villains fell, and Olaf paled greatly.

He pushed down Frank-or-Dewey Denouement, trying to flee, only to be intercepted by Dewey-or-Frank Denouement. Olaf tried to fight this Denouement while the first one came in and knocked him down with his own spyglass.

Olaf collapsed, and as the judges were wrangled up and handcuffed by justices and volunteers alike, the world seemed quiet. If only for a moment.

This trial was both troublesome and legal, but at last, that's how the story can go.


	7. Chapter Seven

The world is quiet here.

The phrase, best known as the motto to the Volunteer Fire Department, means many things.

Its original meaning is that libraries are quiet places, lest you get an angry librarian mad at you and revoking your membership. Many noble people once went to libraries, checking out encyclopaedias, and novels, and everything in between, from every assigned number in the Dewey Decimal System, to every young adult fiction writer.

It later gained a more sinister meaning, one that meant that the places destroyed and warped by fires and flames would be quiet, due to the lack of any living soul able to speak or even make any noise at all, due to the catatonic fire, catatonic being a word which here means, 'murderous, and intentionally set'.

Over time, it gained more and more meanings. The deep sea is quiet. The air ducts are quiet, the jail cells are quiet. Each for their own reasons.

I will use the term 'the world is quiet here' three more times in this chapter, before it ends.

Hotel Denouement was also a place where the world was quiet, as the crowd watched intently as the vastly untalented actor, Count Olaf, rose up. His accomplices were caught, and he was set for jail time.

Count Olaf turned, pulling a knife from his pockets. He turned, seeking the first person he saw. No, not person. Orphan.

His eyes landed on Violet, sweet pretty Violet. He, with one flick, threw the knife, which soared across the air. Violet dodged the blade, but she crashed in Klaus doing so.

"Bow before your grand actor and overlord," Olaf said, the final wire in my sanity pulled taut and tighter until it snapped, "Olaf Handler of Stain'd-by-the-Sea!"

With one move faster than he possibly should have, he moved across the room, and grabbed one of the Denouements – probably Frank, but it could have been Dewey, unless Olaf thought Ernest was someone else. He held the triplet in an iron grip, and Dewey/Ernest/Frank started seeing stars, suffering suffocation.

Quigley and Duncan both moved with remarkable speed as well, considering they were only fourteen, trying to free the Denouement – likely Dewey, judging by how he was saying Kit's name – from Olaf's grip.

Olaf smirked, tossing Dewey down, grabbing Quigley instead... unless it was Duncan, it was hard to tell in the action. Duncan's eyes went wide, as he tried to break his brother free from Olaf's grip instead.

"An orphan dies tonight!" Olaf exclaimed, tightening his grip on Quigley. Violet, Klaus, and Isadora all ran to Quigley's aid, but Olaf took a couple steps back.

"One more step, and I snap the boy's neck!" Olaf warned, and his look most certainly showed he wasn't bluffing.

Everyone froze. Quigley was turning blue, and no one could save him. Isadora flinched a little, scared for her brother. Duncan clutched his fists tightly in anger.

Suddenly, they both relaxed. Olaf glared, smirking.

"Why are you two both so calm all of a sud-"

Suddenly, the count dropped Quigley, who started inhaling as much as he could. Through the dead center of Olaf's chest, was a harpoon gun.

Fired by Dewey Denouement himself.

In his left arm he held the harpoon gun that nearly killed him last night, and in the other he held my sister, Kit, who was injured but safe.

Olaf staggered, collapsing. He grabbed Violet's collar on the way down, pulling her with him. "Man hands on misery to man, it deepens like a coastal shelf." He spat, his shiny eyes gleaming like they never had before. "Get out as early as you can." He continued, before coughing worse than Mr. Poe. He had left go of Violet, who stood back up. All six children peered at him a bit clos-

"And don't have ANY. Kids. Yourself." The count spat, before shaking, and lying down. And letting him draw his very last breath.

There was silence, and then one could say, the world is quiet here.

As the sinister duo of judges were courted away to prison, Olaf simply lay there, dead in the lobby of Hotel Denouement.

All was still, until...

Wrong!

The clock in the Hotel Denouement started going off, signalling that it was twelve o' clock. There are many things in this world that can't help but happen. The rising and falling of the sun, life and death...

Wrong!

Violet couldn't help but think how this sick and twisted man who had chased them around the world and back was finally dead.

Wrong!

Klaus couldn't help but wonder if Olaf had set the Baudelaire fire. He may never know, but some things were likely better off not knowing.

Wrong!

Sunny couldn't help but remember that ten years from now, she wouldn't remember all this. She wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a curse.

Wrong!

Isadora couldn't help but cry, knowing she almost lost Quigley a second time, this time for good. But at least the nightmare was over.

Wrong!

Duncan couldn't help but cuddle his siblings, scared that if he let go, they'd be kidnapped or hurt yet again.

Wrong!

Quigley couldn't help but shake, as he tried to breathe at a rational pace again. He could've sworn his life was flashing before his eyes.

Wrong!

Dewey and Kit couldn't help but acknowledge how close the six came to experiencing great loss, and even wondered if they should try and protect more, and give the library to someone else.

Wrong!

You couldn't help but read this story, and you have witness life and death beck and call to this six children, hoping they might finally get happiness and closure.

Wrong!

Just as I couldn't help but love one woman enough to devote my later life's work to sharing the story of her children.

Wrong!

You likely couldn't help but suspect this wasn't the last of the misery for the Quagmires and Baudelaires. That there misery would never end.

Wrong!

But, luckily, that's not how the story goes.

* * *

Despite what things seem, many people over or under estimate their own reactions to something. You might expect a great deal of joy when you have strawberry ice cream, only to find you are allergic to strawberries. You might expect a great deal of sadness when you break up with a girlfriend, but you come to realize it was a toxic relationship you should have cut off sooner.

As Olaf's limp body was carted away on a stretcher, despite how lucky the kids felt, they felt no joy or happiness from his death, merely a sense of relief, and of crushing stress being lifted from their shoulders.

They couldn't help but wonder why Olaf was so insistent on hunting them, especially after Esme. Did he want more than the fortune? Did he want revenge?

Was there a chance he just wanted a true challenge in his rapidly declining life?

They would never know, but they knew not to dwell. I myself have learned dwelling on the past too long results in old flames never dying, even when that flame themselves perish to a flame.

As the police and ambulance and coroner arrived, the orphans lie on the sidelines, silent, as they had been since Olaf died. It was almost like with his death, their very ability to speak was stolen.

Dewey sat down beside the six. "The world is quiet here, thanks to you six. You all made noble sacrifices today." He said, and when no kid objected to his presence, he continued. "Even our greatest in the V.F.D. haven't done as well as you. You deserve the happy ending you're about to get..."

"If only your parents were here. They would be so proud of you." Dewey said, lamentably. Lamentably is a word here meaning 'wishing he could have done more to save the parents of the six orphans'.

"Have you decided what you'll be doing with your library?" asked Isadora, timidly.

"Kit and I want you to have it." Said Dewey, calmly. "You don't always have to be there... but it can be a home. You will have space to live, eat, enjoy life. I had built originally in case I never wanted to leave."

"You'd be safe." Dewey added, looking at the six. If the death of the villain that caused all this misfortunate hurt them like this, how hard had the death of their parents been?

They never got a chance to grieve, really... thought Dewey sadly.

"We'll do it, right?" Klaus asked, looking at his friends. The calm silence verified what everyone was thinking.

"We'll volunteer." Said Violet.

Dewey nodded. "No, thank you." He said, before leaving.

The six friends hugged and embraced, excited for the new, safe life awaiting.

They went over to Kit, who was about to leave with Dewey to an unknown safe house. They didn't want more enemies.

"Will I be a good mother, do you think?"

Before anyone could answer, the clock in the Hotel went off one final time. The last time Kit or Dewey would ever hear, probably.

 _Wrong!_

When everything seemed bleak, the two sets of friends made it.

"We know it." Isadora said.

They couldn't help but watch Olaf drive away, in the police's hands. At last, their troubles went away, at least for a time. The six children hugged, hand in hand, bracing themselves for their brand new life in the secret library. The brand new stories waiting to be told there.

"You'll be a good mother, Kit." Violet assured her. "We'll always be here for you."

Kit wiped away some tears, "I have a question for you children..." They all looked at the former volunteer... "May we name her after your parents? Beatrice Moxie Denouement?"

So much silence fell over them, but Violet broke it. "You don't need to ask." They all hugged, not a cry or scream or whimper among them.

The world isn't quiet with kids, when they're born, as they cry, and require attention. Despite this, we don't mind, while the tears shed anyway.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourselves?" Kit asked, and they assured her. "Children... You did wonderful things today."

At last, it seemed like all the dark, twisted, corrupt, villainy and torture lurking around the whole world could go away. Of course, this is wrong.

Sadly, it is impossible to get rid of all villainy, but making things quiet, at least for a time, is all we can ask here, really.

The world is quiet here.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading! I've got two more short one-shots, another full story, and an one-shot compilation to share soon, but enjoy this for now!**


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